


literal, actual, veritable eons

by daveck



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daveck/pseuds/daveck
Summary: Lucifer may be the Light Bringer, but his Father is the Light. [Short. Post ep set at the end of Season 5A.]
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	literal, actual, veritable eons

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't finished Season Five part A - GO AWAY. 
> 
> If you have, you may still want to go away as this doesn't really have any point - I just had to finish the scene so my mind could rest. :D

Warmth blooms in his chest - there’s no other way to describe it, really - and, immediately, it rallies something elemental inside him. 

Lucifer may be the Light Bringer, but his Father is the Light. God’s divinity fills up the cracks in his soul, transporting Lucifer’s memory back to a simpler time, a time before  _ absence _ , and- 

How dare He? How dare  _ He _ come  _ now _ .

After literal Eons of being ignored. An eternity of being the dutiful son carrying out his own damned punishment while left to rot in the basement, his Father shows up  _ now _ ? And what for? So he doesn’t carve up his brother’s pretty little face any further? 

It’s not because He gives a damn about  _ him _ \- Lucifer - or any of his children, really. If He did, he wouldn’t have left Uriel to be skewered. 

He wouldn’t have - 

He -

Literal. Eons. 

So, what, then? 

“What the Hell are you doing here?” Lucifer snaps, satisfied when his voice remains somewhat steady. 

God opens his mouth to speak. “Samiel, my son-” 

And then he’s barely able to keep hold of the hysterical laughter that wants to bubble up as the tether holding Lucifer together snaps. “No.”

“Luci,” Amenadiel starts, and it’s a snarl this time as he shrugs out of his brother’s reach - “ _ No _ !” 

Eons. Literal, actual,  _ veritable _ eons. 

No. Radio silence, that he can deal with, but this? Him? Here? In his _home_? 

No. 

With a stiff spine, the Devil turns on his heel and walks away. 

Lucifer can barely hear his Father’s direction to his brothers -  _ “Leave him.” _ \- above the ringing that’s started in his own ears. He needs to be anywhere else, the drive to put multiple dimensions between himself and the gaping hole his Father’s light is burning into his very being too strong to be ignored. Tethered as he is to this time and this place, he settles, only, for distance. 

No longer able to wait for his brother to release his angelic grip on reality, the Devil’s long strides eat up the distance to the evidence lock up and before he’s cognizant of what he’s doing, he’s cradling a stiff Detective against his chest. 

“Forgive me, love,” he whispers as he brushes his lips against the crown of her head, but truly, there is no elegant way to extract themselves from the tight space. With her form so unresponsive, he does what he must, hauling her against him, one arm around her waist, the other pressing her face to the hollow of his throat. As careful as is possible, he half-drags her into the open bullpen. 

As soon as he has enough space his wings are out and he scoops Chloe up and into his arms. She won’t appreciate being manhandled so, he thinks, but he can’t bear the alternative. 

Risking a glance towards the staircase, the Devil finds his brothers in the same position he left them, eyes turned towards the spectacle they no doubt consider him to be making. His Father is unmoved. Even Mazikeen has remained in place, sprawled on her back on the floor. 

“Dad?” 

“Yes, Samiel?” 

“Go to Hell.” 

And then they’re gone, his precious cargo cradled against his chest as he rockets them away as fast as his wings will allow. 


End file.
